I Do What I Want!
by narurahatake
Summary: Deadpool does what he does best. Kill people and crack jokes. And he's all out of people. ...yeah that was a bad joke. But seriously, I have no idea where Deadpool is taking me in this story. But he says it's gonna be fun, so eh. Wanna come along?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi. I don't own Deadpool. But he owns me. So yeah. I also have no idea where this story is going. I just wrote it. Out of nowhere. For fun. Okay bye.**

* * *

A few days ago, I was told to escort a Gentle Rose into the waiting arms of a certain "Mr. Fox." No boo-boos or no money. Hey, that's fine; I'll just cover her with bubble wrap and carry her straight to him. I'll use a FedEx box too, but Rose could be as fat as yo momma. It's an easy job, but I can't do it; "Gentle Rose" isn't actually gentle – at all.

"Aaaaahhh!" Rose screams, tossing another chair at the wall.

It gives a short crack of pain, the wall grunting in sympathy. A piece of the chair's leg rolls toward me, bumping against my trademark red-striped black boots. I pick up the fragment, examining the workmanship. _Victorian Luxury_ is craved on the bottom, practically screaming "I'm-worth-millions-of-dollars!" I whistle softly, wondering how Mommy and Daddy Rose would react. They probably wouldn't even notice with all the identical copies filling the room.

Rose gives another shriek and launches into the gold-titled books nearby. Little mushroom clouds of dust explode with every 700-page bomb she throws, creating more noise than an amateur drummer.

"That _idiot_!" she splutters, arms still whirring. "Would it kill him to get a limo? Or even a jet! No, he sends a donkey instead of a stallion!"

Well that was rude. The b**** is just asking for a bottle of weed killer. But I'll forgive her for the cash. Only for the cash.

The "donkey" gives a short mocking bray that was very convincing if I do say so myself. Not-So-Gentle Rose whips around and glares at me with some obviously fake green eyes. I bet she has an entire color spectrum of contact lenses in her make-up room. Rich b****.

I smile at the spoiled she-devil but drop it when I realize that she can't see my face under the mask.

"Sorry for not being a limo," I say. "Or a Transformer. But Donkey Kong here wants to keep his bananas, so let's go, Princess Peach, because Mario's waiting."

Her scowl twists into an odd mixture of hate and confusion.

"Are you insane?" she asks.

My fingers twitch. Rich as she is, you would've think she'd be able to afford a PlayStation or something.

"Look, Rose," I say. "I want money, and you're the key to Fox-face's money chest, so let's go, go, go."

She sniffs and crosses her arms.

"I require my baggage, " she says, and looks at me expectantly.

As if I'm here to be her damn servant. Yeah, right.

"Uh, no," I tell her. "Apparently, I'm a donkey, and I can't load myself. I can only transport. And I've been told to transport one 'Gentle Rose,' not one 'Rose with a bag of cow s**t.'"

"What—!"

"Hold still, honey."

I jump off the windowsill I'd been sitting on, and pull out a large size roll of bubble wrap from god-knows-where. Hey, I wasn't kidding. I even bought a FedEx box, and luckily, Rose is the size yo momma wants to be: petite and light as a feather, even when wrapped in sheets of bubble wrap. Unfortunately, Rose's momma appeared at the doorway just as I was shoving Rosie into the box.

An awkward second ticks by as fancy dressed prune stares at shadily dressed ninja pushing down a tightly wrapped princess. I should be gone by now, but that old bag caught me by surprise. I guess I'd better nix the box before she realizes the wriggling bubble-worm is her daughter.

Hefting said worm over my shoulder, I give a quick salute to the prune and jump out the window.

* * *

**INTERMISSION**

Now the story you've just read, that's just a preview of what I do. I'm not really a kidnapper or a crazy chaperone that likes to use codenames for the hell of it. Okay, I will be if you pay me enough. But that's not exactly what I am; I'm a mercenary (one of the best, too), and sometimes, I do more than kill. I'm kind of like a man-for-hire, like that Mexican guy named Pedro on your block who will do odd jobs for money. Except I'm more exclusive and expensive. Supply and demand, you know? There's only one of me, and ten million Pedro's.

So, yeah, I'm a pretty normal guy, all weird parts aside. Underneath that oddball layer of tight spandex (and scarred skin, but don't worry; it's not contagious), I'm just Deadpool, mercenary for hire. I can spy, kill, transport, satisfy (wink, wink), and I don't care if you're liberal or conservative, as long as you're rich and generous. I'll even be your stand-in comedian and cheer you up, that is, if you cheer my piggybank up first.

But enough advertisement. Now that you know who I am, who I really am, and who I'm not, let's get back to the plot. It's in here somewhere.

By the way, I can be contacted at 1-800-DEAD-MERC.

Just kidding.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi. I wrote a new chapter. I have no idea what the hell my fingers are typing. No idea. But heads up, I had a go at writing Deadpool's other...voices...minds...personalities. What. I don't even know any more. Bye.**

* * *

"What's this?"

Fox-face's voice sounds so dangerously cold and sharp…like money!

I hug the wriggling tube on my shoulder, beaming full blast under my mask.

"It's your princess!" I tell him, and pat the girl hard enough to pop some bubbles. "By the way, I have to warn you, the princess may be here, but the brain's in another castle."

With that, I push the live package off my shoulder and towards Fox-face. She stumbles and trips, somehow managing to fall out of her cocoon straight into Fox-face's arms.

"Rose!"

"Frank!"

The two stare at each other with wide eyes, looking like a couple on the silver screen with his arms dipping her into a graceful angle as their heads bend low. Just like the chick flicks girls watch…if it wasn't for the ninja popping bubble wrap in the background.

_Pop, pop, pop. _The golden couple looks up from their embrace and glare at me, one full of thorns, the other full of fangs. And saliva. A lot of saliva; he's practically dripping.

"You—!" Fox-face hisses. Or at least that's what I think he said. Too much spit and false aggression to make out the words.

I glance up from my happy place.

"Oh, don't mind me," I tell him with a reassuring wink. "I'm just waiting for your money."

And I'll wait forever if I have to. They can do it right there for all I care; I'll just watch and wait. Maybe even record for future blackmail.

Fox-face sighs and tosses a bag at my feet. It lands with unmistakable soft thump of money stacks, and I whoop as I scoop it up.

"Hell yeah!" I crow. "Many thanks, and as the Chinese say, may you have long kids with many lives. Or, rice to you, or whatever."

I wink at them and turn…into a spider of web rope.

"What the hell!"

I glared at Fox-face through the tangle of my limbs.

"You know," I say. "It's polite to deactivate your traps when you have guests."

Fox-face gives off a laugh that seriously sounds a lot more like a hyena then a fox.

"You fool," he says in stereotypical deep villain voice. "Your part isn't done yet. You – "

I yawn, loudly.

"You need someone to put the blame on once the Roses realize their daughter isn't coming back," I say, picking at the rope. "And since you're playing Romeo without the good looks, you're the number one suspect. You clear your name once you tell them some story of how you valiantly rescued her from me, the bad guy, and they give you her hand in gratitude."

Fox-face can only stare, perhaps shocked at my awesomely wicked detective skills. Or maybe, he's frozen with mortification of me ruining his evil speech so perfectly, and in front of his girlfriend to boot. Speaking of which, she doesn't seem to be too happy either. I guess she knew the plan all along.

I look at them, waiting for a response.

"Hey guys?" I call. "You know I have a pretty good lawyer, right?"

Fox-face splutters back into animation.

"Enough," he cries. "Someone take him away."

A henchman appears from the shadows, boots thumping as he walks towards me.

"Hey," I greet him. "Bet your 'dungeon' is just a hastily cleared room with little space for me to move, and yet is full of supplies I can use to escape."

"Supply closet," he says, fiddling with the rope.

"Thought so."

* * *

"For a rich guy, Fox-face's closet is pretty small."

"Focus, idiot. Have you located the item?"

"Yeah, it's right next to me. As in, next door."

_Thump_.

"Ow."

"What was that?"

"Me, banging my elbow as I try to untangle myself."

"So you're free?"

"Somewhat."

"Acquire the item. Then proceed to Stage 5."

"Oooh, I love Stage 5!"

"I'm sure you do…"

_Click._

You know, it wouldn't kill the bastard to say bye. I mean, it's not like I want a "okay, be safe and have fun," but a little "good luck" now and then wouldn't hurt.

I sigh and slip the phone in my pocket. My bosses are jerks. I look out the broken window of the supply closet to the henchman slumped underneath it.

"What about you?" I ask him. "You like your boss?"

No answer, just a staring contest with the wall. Usually, I'd get mad, but I'll admit it's hard to talk with a steel pipe lodged in your skull.

I clamber out of the window, taking care not to tread on the poor henchy. What kind of idiot stands with his back to a ninja anyway? Even if the ninja is tangled in a supply closet meant for midget janitors. Okay fine, I'm not a real ninja, but if you pay me enough, I can be anything, even your ex-girlfriend. No…maybe not that.

Flexing my shoulders, I strolled down the hall, my whistling echoing off the metal walls. The mystery item was one room away…but ah, one check at the map and…no door. That's fine; I'm Deadpool goddammit. I'm the master at redecorating. Just take a left here, one grenade there and BOOM. Instant new door, with some flashing red lights to boot. Who needs Ikea when you got skills like mine?

Hands on my hips, I admired my handiwork; one jagged hole, with some splats of red for a nice contrast. Someone should really clean up the bodies on the floor, though; they were really ruining the vibe of the room. So avant-garde.

_What the f*ck does that even mean?_

_**Artistic. Or something. Like that Pablo guy.**_

_The square dude?_

…_**yeah, sure.**_

_Sweet! _

Shut. The f*ck. Up.

_F*ck you._

_**F*ck you.**_

"F*ck YOU!"

I tossed another grenade into the air, frustrated at my…selves.

_Boss said no unnecessary damage._

_**Place needed a skylight anyway. Totally necessary.**_

Striding through the falling debris, I made my way to the safe tucked under the pile of broken computers.

_The code is 9 – 5 – 14._

_**No way. It's 9 – 6 – 24. Trust me, I'm the smart half.**_

Screw that. Ol' Reliable will get that door off in no time. I twirl the gun in my hands and aimed.

_No unnecessary damage._

_**F*ck off.**_

BAM, clean off the hinges. I quickly pocketed the item. How and where, you ask? It's magic, kids. Magic. No, I'm serious. I've got some mojo you won't believe is –

_Hurry. I hear a lot of footsteps coming this way._

I twirled Ol' Reliable in my hand, grinning. It's time for Stage 5.

* * *

**So you probably noticed I've been dodging the action scenes. I'm not writing them. I can't. I suck at them. Maybe one day I'll do them. But seriously. The best line I can come up with for Deadpool's fighting scenes is "a whirlwind of guns and knives." That's really pathetic. So yeah. No action scenes. I'm sorry. (No I'm not, but I gotta say SOMETHING.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey. Look. New chapter. Cool.**

* * *

_We should get out now._

_**Hell no! We got some hurt to dish out.**_

_Boss will cut our paycheck…_

_**And we'll cut his neck in return.**_

_We're also lost._

…

"We're not lost!" I snapped. "This place just has too many corridors. Besides, we got the map."

_It's upside down._

I grunt in frustration, crumpling the map in my hands.

"Screw that," I declare. "I got dowsing skills."

I quickly whip out my sword.

"LED US TO FOX-FACE," I yell, swinging wide.

_That's not how you –_

BAM. The wall panel next to me collapsed, neatly sliced in two, and revealing a rather lavish room with the Fox himself, all wrapped up in his precious Rose. Oh, and half-naked. Don't look kids.

"Behold my dowsing skills!" I shout, sword held high.

"What the f*ck!" Rose screams. She smacks Fox-face on the arm. "Do something, idiot!"

Fox-face shakes out his stupor, and quickly punches a button on the wall. A panel in the roof opens, spitting out another fish net trap. I toss the rope to side with the hilt of my sword, smiling at them all the while.

"H-how…"

"Yeah, you see, Mr. Fox, I've been in this business for a pretty long time," I tell him. "And I'm use to betrayals, hidden plans, and bald guys who like to pet white fluffy cats while cackling evilly."

I pull out my gun and level it at him, thumb on the safety.

"And what you tried to do – minus the cat and pits of spikes…"

_Click._

"…was so very cliché." I pressed down on the trigger. "Bang."

* * *

Kids, no matter what TV tells you, people will end up in court for murder, one way or another…except death. That's the third way out. I'll tell you the other two later.

Right now, I'm being convicted of the attempted murder of one Rose Marylyn. Outrageous, innit? I didn't even touch the bitch, the bullet did. But that's not something you say in court, especially when aiming for "not guilty, your honor." So I settle for rolling my eyes while drawling,

"Oh puh-lease. I wasn't 'attempting to murder' her. I was just trying to severely maim her."

Gasps all around the courtroom, and my lawyer very subtly smacks himself in the face. As in, Pearl Harbor subtle. But don't worry; my lawyer, embarrassed as he is right now, is actually a pretty good guy. At law practice, I mean. Not morally. Everyone knows lawyers are bloodsuckers with a penchant for big stuffy books.

My lawyer stands up, face faintly red from the slap he gave himself.

"Your honor, what my client is trying to say is that he was only acting in defense. In the event that Miss Marylyn and Mr. Hite had forced him to…"

I begin to tune out.

_This is boring._

_**Let's shoot stuff.**_

_Starting with that Rose girl._

_**No, that security guy over there. He's been giving the stink eye for a while now.**_

_Or how about that the judge himself?_

_**F*ck it. Let's kill everyone.**_

My finger started to twitch. Tempting idea, but…

* * *

**THE WORLD'S FATE IS IN YOUR HANDS. SHALL WE KILL THEM? OR SHALL WE SAVE THEM? I'M PROBABLY NOT GONNA LISTEN TO YOU ANYWAY, BUT YOU CAN TRY YOUR BEST TO CONVINCE ME. Also, I gotta admit something to you guys: most of what I've done so far was pre-written like some months ago. That's how I've been churning out chapters faster than my past average rate which was...pretty slow. And I'm saying all this because I just ran out of pre-written stuff. So updates...will be slower...uh. Yea.**

**(OH AND THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS AND FAVS AND FOLLOWS SORRY FOR BEING A DOUCHE AND NOT SAYING THANKS UNTIL NOW K BAI)**


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